And my dreams coming true.
I’d wanted this since I was seven.
Had gotten approached several times at the age of sixteen and had done a few collaborations with some budding artists. I was famous in the YouTube world. But this was beyond that. This was the next logical step in my career, and I wanted it so bad I could taste it.
“We’ve had our eye on him for a while,” said Drew with a half-assed shrug. “Watched some of his collaborations. But honestly, the real reason we waited this long was because getting tossed into this life at such a young age changes you in ways I didn’t want for him. Hell, I’m thirty, and I’m still trying to process all the shit we were put through in the name of record sales and money. He just turned nineteen. But after his last few videos went viral, we all sat down and decided we wanted him.”
I felt my eyes mist a bit because, damn it felt good to be wanted. And because a small part of me loved that they’d waited, that they understood I wanted to do it right. Although they didn’t even know me well enough to know that.
“Okay,” my mom said slowly. “We’ll look over the contracts tonight and give you an answer in the morning.” She sighed, washed her hands, and then grabbed a stack of plates. “In the meantime—” She handed the plates to Drew; the white porcelain looked funny against his black finger tattoos. “Set the table.”
Drew laughed.
I elbowed him. “She’s dead serious.”
“Oh shit.” Drew straightened his stance a bit. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Fill the water too!” she called as he rounded the corner to the dining room table.
“Right away!”
I snickered. “What? Five minutes in my house, and you think she’s a sergeant in the army?”
“She’s terrifying,” Drew said under his breath. “Kinda hot though for—”
“I wouldn’t.” I patted his back. “Last friend of mine that hit on her had to sit on frozen peas for weeks.”
Drew made a face.
And then we fell into an easy silence before he nodded. “We chose good.”
“I won’t let you down.”
“I know, man. I know.”
Chapter One
Braden
Present Day
5 Years Later
I drummed my fingertips against the cold granite counter and nearly jumped a foot when Drew walked into the beach house with one of our mutual rock star friends, Zane Andrews. He took one look at me and whispered, “You sure you’re okay?”
“Fine,” I answered in a clipped tone, rubbing my hands back and forth in a self-soothing motion that my therapist said would help me focus on something other than the incident.
Because that’s what we were calling it.
The Incident.
Actually, no, that’s what the superfans were calling it.
I wasn’t sure how it actually happened, but it was typical for followers to make up names for themselves. You got the Swifty’s, The Army, The Monsters… I mean, the list went on and on. And yeah, I got it. I did. It unified them like our music did to them…ergo, it was their way of connecting in a way that mattered.
And up until last year, I was completely okay with it. Until a senseless shooting ruined everything and loud noises started reminding me of gunshots. Guilt wrapped around me like a heavy, lead blanket.
“He’s shaking,” Zane pointed out like I wasn’t sitting right there on a barstool, staring out across the vast white sand beach of fucking Seaside, Oregon.
I was an hour from home, but it might as well be thousands of miles.
I’d moved my family to LA the minute I knew I couldn’t make the commute. Funny how the one place I’d escaped was the only place I could find solitude.
Seaside, Oregon.
I ran my shaking hands through my hair and tried to ignore my friends’ concerned looks. Then again, they had a reason to be worried. I’d been practicing with them for the upcoming tour, doing awesome, even thought I was over my debilitating stage fright.
And all it took to bring it all back was one of the lights falling next to me, along with a crazed fan with my name on her shirt, hiding in my dressing room.
I lost it.
Grabbed my guitar and boarded the first private plane I could to Seaside, never looking back.
That was three weeks ago.
And the tour was in sixty days.
Since then, I’d been active on my channel but that was easy, it was just me and my fans. I didn’t have to frantically search the audience for weapons because I was staring at a computer screen.
Sixty days. I reminded myself that it wasn’t just the guys’ careers hanging in the balance, it was mine too. I owed them songs, and I still owed the record company my next album. But how was I supposed to write when my mind was broken?
“Look.” Drew pulled out a barstool and sat in front of me. His tattoos looked dark against the white granite as he leaned his massive body against the counter. “If you don’t come on tour, you’ll be in breach of contract—”
I opened my mouth, only to have him raise his hand.
I jerked my head in a stiff nod.
“We don’t want that. AD2 has been dying to tour with you. Our band and you have been inseparable since you broke out on your own a few years ago. And you know Zane cries himself to sleep when you don’t sing for him.”
“One time,” Zane grumbled. “And my wife was away. I was lonely.”
“Hug a bear.” This from Drew, earning a smack from Zane. “Look, Braden, I’m not saying what happened wasn’t horrible. God knows it’s not excusable, and I totally get how things might trigger you now, like the light and shit.” He sighed. “But you need to move past it. And I think the only way for you to do that is to get back on stage and give the world hope again.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, then shoved away from the chair, taking care to put most of my weight on my good leg. My limp was noticeable if I sat too long. My right leg was just tired, but it was a constant reminder of the incident.
A nagging reminder.
That I’d had everything.
And in the blink of an eye, a psycho had used my music, my concert, to rip it all away.
I squeezed my eyes shut. “It was my lyrics, guys. My pain that caused this.”
“Bullshit,” Zane swore. “You didn’t make him pick up a semi-automatic weapon, Braden. That was all him, he was insane.”
“Yeah,” I croaked. “We all have a bit of that inside, don’t we?”
“Nope.” Drew shook his head. “Not going down that path. Look, I’m glad you’re here, Seaside has helped all of us relax. I mean, look at Zane. He used to walk around half-naked holding warm marshmallows in his pocket. Today, he’s wearing a shirt.”
We both looked at the garment in question. It had at least three gaping holes, and both of us were very aware of a pierced nipple.
Drew winced. “Yeah, bad example. But you get what I mean.”
“I don’t know.” I bit down on my lower lip. “I want it. You guys know how bad I want this, it’s the tour of a lifetime. I just…I can’t let you down.”